The Virus

 

Silently it marches from distant shores.

No sharpened spear, arrow poised, blood curdling cry,

always silently and stealthily

riding the backs of innocents,

tenebrous conduits by sea and by sky.

 

It seeks to find the undefendable.

The pacifist, pensioner, realms of the poor

devoid of youthful sprightliness.

No cleansing choruses,

fighting talk, steadfastness, or unopened door.

 

It’s relying upon accomplices.

No loving touch, social fix, plateful of food

The grace of helpful hands

when offered in sincerity

unwitting, committing, the victim pursued.

 

Let’s raise our fallen heads and see it through.

Be positive, be leading, all will depend

on the graceful giving of smiles

and words of positivity,

uplifting, assuring, the word of a friend.